When There's No More Tomorrows
by DarkandtwistyGirl
Summary: AU. Set mid S1. When Dean got the call from St Lukes Hospital, he never saw what came next. Suddenly he and Sam are faced with the reality, their father is dying from an incurable disease. *Complete*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or the characters, and chances are that I never will.**

**Thanks to everyone who responded to the last chapter of To The Bone! I hope that you will enjoy this new fic, it's just something that I thought up, and I thought I'd see if anyone was interested.**

**And on top of this fic, though I'll probably regret it later, I'm also starting another new fic, Devastated, please check it out.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**21****st**** of February, 2006**

Sam and Dean were standing at the gas station, trying to figure out their next move in their latest hunt, in Lawrence, Kansas, more specifically in the rebuilt house that was once their family home.

"We just gotta chill out, that's all. You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?" Dean asked rationally, trying to detach himself from the emotions he was feeling.

Sam sighed, but he saw the reasoning behind what Dean was doing, they had to treat this like any other hunt. "We'd try to figure out what we were dealin' with. We'd dig into the history of the house."

Dean nodded as he replied. "Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened."

"Yeah, but how much _do_ we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?" Sam asked pointedly, and it was rightfully so, they didn't really know that much about what had actually happened that night, John had never shared much with them.

"About that night, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Not much." Dean admitted. "I remember the fire…the heat." He paused momentarily. "And then I carried you out the front door."

"You did?" Sam queried, surprise in his voice.

"Yeah, what, you never knew that?"

Sam shook his head. "No."

Dean sighed, before putting on a stoic mask as he said to his brother. "And, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her."

"And he never had a theory about what did it?"

"If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times."

"Okay. So, if we're gonna figure out what's goin' on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it's the same thing."

"Yeah. We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time."

Sam paused. "Does this feel like just another job to you?"

Dean was silent for a moment, before he said. "I'll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom." And walked away, as soon as he'd turned a corner, putting himself next to the gas station bathroom, he pulled out his cell phone. After looking around to make sure no one, ie Sam could see him, he dialed a number.

Not surprisingly, it went straight to voicemail. "This is John Winchester. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean at 866-907-3235."

"Dad? I know I've left you messages before. I don't even know if you'll get 'em." Dean began nervously, he cleared his throat before continuing. "But I'm with Sam. And we're in Lawrence. And there's somethin' in our old house. I don't know if it's the thing that killed Mom or not, but…." Dean's voice was breaking, his pain was so real that he could barely keep himself together. "…I don't know what to do. So, whatever you're doin', if you could get here. Please. I need your help, Dad." Dean finished with tears in his eyes.

* * *

That night, Dean and Sam had gone to the house to watch over the family, just in case, and before they could so much as blink, Sam was being held inside the house, by an invisible force, and the front door slammed shut between him and Dean. Frantic, Dean grabbed an axe and a shot gun from the trunk of the impala, and rushed towards the door, which he started attacking with the axe as soon as he was in range.

* * *

A minute earlier, in the house, Sam was flung against a set of kitchen cabinets, he stood up, only to be pinned against the wall by the invisible force. He couldn't move his body at all.

The fiery figure that had been in Sari's room just minutes earlier was standing in front of Sam, just as Dean finally broke a large enough hole in the door to climb through, and started looking for his brother. "Sam? Sam!" Dean called out, only to quickly find his brother pinned against the kitchen wall. He saw the figure standing in front of Sam he raised the gun.

"No don't! Don't!" Sam exclaimed unexpectedly.

"What, why?!" Dean asked, confused.

"Because I know who it is. I can see her now."

As suddenly as the figure appeared, the fire that surrounded it vanished. Leaving the late Mary Winchester standing in front of them, exactly the same as the night she had died.

Dean's expression softened, and in shock he lowered his gun as he softly said. "Mom?"

Mary smiled serenely, and stepped closer to her eldest son. "Dean." Tears were forming in Dean's eyes as Mary walked away from him, towards Sam. "Sam."

Sam smiled weakly, crying silently.

Their mother's smile faded. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sam asked, confused.

Mary was silent for a minute as she looked at her son sadly. "You need to find your father." Mary then said seriously to her sons before she walked away, and looked up at the ceiling, and spoke to the invisible force. "You get out of my house. And let go of my son." Upon stopping speaking, Mary Winchester once again, bursts into flames, and as she was entirely engulfed, the fire reached the ceiling and disappeared along with her. Sam was instantly released from the invisible force that held him, and after recovering from his abrupt descent, he walked over to Dean.

They looked at each other, both stunned. "Now it's over." Sam said.

"But what did she mean? We heard from Dad a couple of months back, he's just out of touch right now, right?" Dean questioned his brother uncertainly.

And for that Sam had no answer, he too was worried by his late mother's ominous final words.

* * *

After that night, hunting was the furthest thing from Sam and Dean's minds, the words of their mother consumed their thoughts, you need to find your father. But it wasn't that easy, they called every contact they had, searched through all the information they could find, every lead they got, but their father remained missing.

* * *

It wasn't until three weeks later as Sam and Dean were sitting in their latest motel room, that they finally got what they were seeking, but the way it came they never saw coming.

Dean was sitting on the bed, while Sam was sitting at the small motel room table, talking on the phone. "No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. ... We just thought that he comes to you for munitions –- maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. … Just call us if you hear anything. … Thanks." Sam ended the call.

Dean looked up at his brother as soon as he was off the phone. "Caleb hasn't heard from him?"

"Nope. Neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?"

"No. Same last time I looked. Nothin' I can make out." Dean said with a laugh. "I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like friggin' Yoda."

"You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing persons."

"We talked about this." Dean said frustratedly. "Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail."

"I don't care anymore."

Just then, Dean's cell phone began to ring, and he got up from his seat to look for it.

"After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean…he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself, you tried to call him, and nothing."

"I know. Where the hell is my cell phone?"

"You know, he could be dead for all we know." Sam said, fully anticipating the response he received.

"Don't say that. He's not dead. He's…he's…"

"He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?" Sam countered, but before Dean could reply he found his phone, and he answered it.

"Yeah."

There was a brief pause before a lady's voice came over the line. "Hello, I'm looking for Michael Bodega's son, Greg, is that you?"

Though it wasn't one of the alias that Dean remembered using, given their history, he replied. "That's me. How do you know my dad?"

"Mr Bodega, my name is Helen Filose, I'm an RN at St Lukes hospital in Michigan. We have your father here."

* * *

**Should I continue?**

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**And as always, suggestions and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcome, feel free to put them in a review or PM.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or the characters, and chances are that I never will.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Glad that people are enjoying this fic so far.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Dean's heart came to thudding halt. It had been nearly four months since he had heard from his father, and now there was a nurse, which in itself spoke volumes as to how bad it must be, as if this was in fact his elusive father, the likelihood that he'd seek medical assistance if there was any other option, was nonexistent. Nervously glancing over at Sam, he asked. "Is he okay?"

"I am very sorry, but I can't go into any details. If it is at all possible you need to come."

"Damn it, just tell me!" Dean exclaimed in frustration, Michigan was hours away, and he wasn't going to wait that long for information.

"He is very ill. I really can't tell you any more."

That simple statement had a much more profound impact on Dean than the nurse could've ever expected. The word ill stood out from the rest, not severely injured, but ill, to most families it would be odd to expect severe injury over illness, but the Winchesters were far from being a normal family.

It also made Dean question whether this was in fact just a case of someone calling the wrong number, but given that this was the first real potential lead in the search for their father in months, he couldn't ignore it. "I'll be there in a few hours."  
"Alright, Mr Bodega, just come straight up when you get here, ward eight, on the forth floor, just take the elevator from the main lobby and go right. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Dean agreed nonchalantly before ending the call. He was already heading for his duffel bag, keen to leave quickly as he told Sam. "I think Dad's at a hospital in Michigan, we've gotta go."

"What? What did they say?! Is he okay?" Sam demanded quickly as he too began hastily packing.

"If it is him, and it is if, then it sounded bad, but they wouldn't say much over the phone." Dean replied. "If it is him, he's using an alias, we'll have to stop at a copy shop and make up some matching IDs."

* * *

Six hours later Dean pulled the impala into a parking space in the large lot adjoining St Lukes Hospital, and he and Sam quickly made their way upstairs, when they reached ward eight, Sam questioned one of the nurses. "Hey, we're looking for Michael Bodega, I'm his nephew, Josh Levi, and this is his son, Greg, someone called us, said he was here." He tried hard not to look down at the pair of levis he was wearing as he spoke, they'd been a little short on time to spend on alias, and because they didn't know what if the nurses had a different name for "Michael's" other son, or if they even knew there was one, they decided it was easier to go with nephew, they'd probably only be here a day or two anyway.

The nurse, who had greeted them warmly suddenly sobered. "I'll go get the doctor for you." She began, but Dean grabbed her wrist, firmly, but non-threateningly as she tried to walk away.

"I've been driving for five and a half hours to get here, lady, just tell me."

Just then, the nurse caught another nurse's eye, and she called out to her. "Hey Steph, can you please go get Dr Rahim?"

"Sure." The other nurse, Steph, called back before heading back in the direction she came from.

"Sit please." The nurse standing before Sam and Dean requested, and after a moment of hesitation they both sat in the aforementioned seating. She focused her attention on Dean, believing him to be the closer relative. "The doctor who's been treating your father will be with us in a minute. Now Mr Bodega, when he speaks with you, you need to prepare yourself, as I am afraid that the news isn't good."

Dean slammed his fist against the arm of the chair, frustrated. "What are you all allergic to giving people a straight answer?! Just tell me."

"Your father's cancer has progressed, I'm afraid he only has months left." A younger Indian doctor said as he approached them.

Sam and Dean were stunned. "What?" Dean said shakily.

The doctor sat down beside the nurse as he continued. "I take it you were unaware of your father's condition."

"Yeah. So talk." Dean said shortly.

"I am very sorry to break the news so bluntly, he has been sick for many months, I presumed you knew." Dr Rahim said sympathetically before continuing on to say. "In brief it is an advanced form of lung cancer, stage four plural mesothelioma. Stage four means that the cancer has spread beyond the chest where it began, in Michael's case it has spread to his brain and the lymph system. He was brought in by ambulance six days ago when he was found collapsed in his motel room, he hadn't been pursuing treatment, but I would strongly advise that you talk to him."

Sam was as shocked as his brother, but he recovered faster and asked the obvious question. "Why?"

The doctor averted his glance for a moment before he somberly answered. "Because if he doesn't start treatment immediately he most likely only has a couple of months."

"Oh..." Dean said in shock, it felt as though he had been punched. "Oh crap."

"I know this must come as a shock." Dr Rahim said genuinely. "Would you like to go see him? He's very weak, but I think he is awake at the moment, so you can visit if you want."

Of course they wanted to see him, to see that it's not him if nothing else. Surely it couldn't really be their father, the great John Winchester couldn't be lying in a hospital 'very weak' and dying of cancer, it can't be true, there must be some kind of mistake.

* * *

It wasn't until Sam and Dean were standing at the foot of the hospital bed, looking directly at their father that the reality finally sunk in, there was no mistake, their father was lying in a hospital bed, unable to so much as lift his head without breaking a sweat, dying, and yet still glaring furiously at the nurse. "I told you not to call them." John said, to the nurse standing just behind the small group.

The nurse stepped forward. "I'm sorry, Mr Bodega, but if you want to leave, you will need to have someone at home to take care of you."

"I told you, it's not happening. I want to leave ...now."

"Mr Bodega-" The doctor began, only to have Dean step in front of him and interrupt.

"Dad, what the hell's going on?!"

"We'll give you a few minutes alone." Dr Rahim said understandingly as he motioned to the nurse, and shortly after the pair left, shutting the door behind them to give the small family privacy.

* * *

As soon as they were alone, Sam was quick to follow his brother's lead. "What are you doing?! We've been looking for you for months and now we get a call that you're in some hospital, dying! What the hell, Dad?!"

John put his hand up to silence his sons, and began by saying. "Sam, it's good to see you son." And then after taking a moment, he said. "Now, what you've been doing is more important. I don't need you here, there's nothing you can do, I'm dying, there's no more to it. So get."

"No way, Dad. You don't get to do that, after everything we've been through looking for you, you don't get to say that. We're not going anywhere." Dean said stubbornly as he moved closer, so that he was standing beside John's bed.

There was a long silence, in which Sam pulled over a couple of chairs to the bedside, and he and Dean sat down beside their father. Before Sam asked. "So, what happened? When did all this happen?"

* * *

**TBC...**

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**And as always, suggestions and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcome, feel free to put them in a review or PM.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or the characters, and chances are that I never will.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Glad that people are enjoying this fic so far. Sorry for the delay, life's been crazy.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Flashback**

**30****th**** of October, 2005**

Sam and Dean were standing outside Sam's apartment building on Stanford University's campus in Palo Alto. "No. Not normal, safe."

"And that's why you ran away?" Dean questioned, scoffing.

"I was just going to college." Sam replied, before bitterly adding. "It was dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing."

Dean wasn't giving up easily though. "Yeah well dad's in real trouble if he's not dead already, I can feel it. I can't do this alone."

"Yes you can." Sam pointed out, he knew where this was heading, and the last thing he wanted was to hit the road again.

"Yeah. Well, I don't want to."

Sam sighed before resigning himself, and asking. "What was he hunting?"

Dean opened the trunk of his car and opened a case of guns and knives as he said. "All right, let's see. Where the hell did I put that thing?" Not coming close to answering Sam's question.

"So when dad left, why didn't you go with him?"

"I was working my own gig. This voodoo thing down in New Orleans."

Sam was surprised. "Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?"

"I'm 26, dude." Dean replied indignantly, as he found what he was looking for, a book, and from that the pulled out a piece of paper. "All right, here we go." Dean declared before he told Sam. "So dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago this guy" He pulled out a newspaper clipping and handed it to Sam "they found his car but he'd vanished, completely M.I.A."  
"So maybe he was kidnapped." Sam suggested logically, but Dean was prepared for that.

"Yeah well, here's another one in April" He handed Sam another article "another one in December '04" Another article "'03" Another article "'98" And yet another article "'92. Ten of them over the past 20 years, all men, all same 5-mile stretch of road. Started happening more and more so dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough." Dean took out his cell phone, and started a voicemail playing. "Then I get this voicemail yesterday."

They listened to the voicemail recording of their father, despite the severe static. "Dean, something is starting to happen, I think it's serious. I need to try to figure out what's going on" There was a break in the recording where whatever John had said was inaudible, as the static had taken over. "Be very careful Dean, we're all in danger."

**

* * *

**

Present time

**21****st**** of February, 2006**

"So what? Was this why you disappeared in the middle of that gig?"

"No, son, I left because I knew you could handle it." John told his eldest son with pride in his voice, only to solemnly add. "I thought I could keep hunting, and I couldn't ignore the omens I found."  
"Okay then, but how'd you end up here? What happened?"

"It started about two weeks before I got on that job."

**

* * *

**

Flashback

**10****th**** of September, 2005**

John had just left the doctor's office, in San Antonio. To some degree he was still in shock as he drove away. Cancer, the big C, everything he's faced, and it'll be cancer that takes him out, it didn't seem right.

He'd only gone to the local clinic for a cough he couldn't shake, coughing up a bit of blood sometimes, nothing too major, and now he was faced with a six month survival, a year tops.

What was he supposed to do? Go to this specialist the doctor had referred him to, and get treated so he might live a bit longer, or keep on the hunt, at least for as long as he could.

There was no cure of his cancer, and as it was clear to John that death was inevitable, and he knew that whatever else happened, he wouldn't spend his last months hooked up to machines and drips, no, he would go out the way he had lived.

Hunting. It was all he had, it was his only future.

* * *

He hunted nonstop for the next two months, at first it was just the run of the mill jobs, but then by accident more than anything else started to piece together some omens and signs, pointing towards whatever had murdered his wife so many years before, it was a demon. From there he handed off the hunt he had been working on to Dean, and unbeknown to him, Sam as well, and moved on, intent to find this demon, to kill it and have his revenge before he died.

* * *

John spent the next month and a half searching for the demon, but then he started to get worse, it started getting harder to get around, just climbing a flight of stairs became a major task, he was losing weight, and it seemed like every day it was getting harder to breathe. He went to the nearest clinic, a few towns over; they said that the cancer was now stage four, he probably only had a few months left, they drained the fluid that had accumulated in his chest, a plural effusion, and said that he should strongly reconsider his decision not to seek treatment, that maybe he should consider moving into a hospice, so that the remainder of his time was comfortable.

He signed out AMA, and was gone the next day.

* * *

That was on New Years Eve, it was only another week before John found himself back in a hospital, he'd had a seizure and crashed his truck into a lamp pole, he'd only gotten scrapes and bruises, but this time the doctors had been insistent, he needed to stay in the hospital, at least until they'd started him on a medication to prevent further seizures.

He stole a couple of packets of the medication they'd prescribed, along with some painkillers, and slipped out the back way, he left town within the hour.

* * *

After that he didn't have a car, and he knew he shouldn't drive even if he did, despite the medication he still had a couple of seizures a week. He booked into a motel in Detroit, and that was where the paramedics found him over a month later, barely breathing, and having near constant seizures because he hadn't been able to get out of bed to take his meds in days.

**

* * *

**

Present time

**21****st**** of February, 2006**

"Okay, so you were sick, and too stubborn to get help. What else is new?" Sam asked sarcastically, his tone was a thin veil against the agonizing fear he was feeling.

* * *

**TBC...**

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**And as always, suggestions and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcome, feel free to put them in a review or PM.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or the characters, and chances are that I never will.**

**Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! I'm glad that people are enjoying this fic so far. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**23****rd**** of February, 2006**

Two days later, and while it was clear that John was still far from okay, the doctors informed Dean and Sam that he would be able to go home in a few days. But while he would be released from the hospital, it wouldn't be that simple, he wouldn't be able to travel, that much went without saying, so Sam and Dean suddenly found themselves on the verge of becoming carers for their dying father for the short amount of time he had left.

And terrified by what lay ahead, while John was resting, when one of the ward nurses came in to check on him, and after she was done she asked the persistent question. "So, is there anything I can get you boys?"

"No thanks, sugar." Dean replied smoothly, as always.

This time Sam spoke up. "Actually, Kate, there is something."

Kate turned back to face Sam, and asked. "And what's that, Josh?"

Sam glanced over at his slumbering father and then his brother. "Um, I don't really know... I probably should just let you get back." Sam began, nearly losing his nerve.

Seeing the younger man's distress, Kate moved back over to the bed, and took a seat beside Sam. "I'm about to go on break, I've got time. What's on your mind?" It wasn't true, she was very busy, but she knew that right now this family was going through hell, and needed to be supported as much as possible.

"I was just thinking that with Dad meant to be getting out of here in a few days..." Sam ran a hand through his hair nervously, pulling it out of his face, only to have it fall back in place almost immediately. "I don't know what we're meant to be doing. When he comes home" Figuratively, Sam still knew they'd have to figure out some more permanent accommodation soon "what's he going to need? Do we need to have anything ready before he leaves here? Who are we meant to call if there's a problem? I just..." Sam sighed wearily "there's just so much, and I don't know..."

Dean stared at his younger brother in shock, he hadn't even considered this, in his mind, their father leaving here meant they'd pick him up and hit the highway; everything would sort itself out, somehow.

Kate on the other hand, as an oncology nurse of eight years, had seen families going through much the same situation, and she comfortingly placed a hand on Sam's slightly shaking shoulder as she said. "It's alright, Josh. It's normal to feel overwhelmed, this is a lot to take on. I'm probably not the best person to be helping you with those sort of things, but if you'd like I can get someone from social work up here to talk to you, they can set you up with anything up might need, contact details, information about where to get medical supplies, financial assistance if it's needed."

Sam paused for a moment, his family had fled more than one town in his youth to avoid social workers, and now he was meant to voluntarily speak with one?! But the rational side of Sam's mind won out, and he replied. "Yeah, that'd be good, thanks."

"Okay, I'm pretty sure that Maria is the social worker on today, I'll page her, and she'll be in to see you as soon as she can."

"Thanks."Sam replied gratefully, before watching as the nurse left the room silently.

* * *

Kate had barely made it out the door before Dean shouted at Sam, rage in his voice, brought on by years of living in fear of the system. "What the hell are you thinking, Sam!?! We don't need a damn social worker nosing around! Go out and tell that nurse that we don't need any help."

"Calm down, Dean." Sam said soothingly, this wasn't helping anything. "I know it's weird, man, but we're not kids anymore, it's not like we're kids and they're trying to take us from Dad. We are going to need help with this, Dean, Dad is dying, and we _are_ going to need help."

Dean looked over towards his sleeping father. Dean was silent for several minutes, and Sam knew better than to speak up, eventually he said. "I know we're not kids anymore... but, look man, I don't know, this is so screwed up. It feels like yesterday we were kids, and Dad was the one looking after us, and now these people are saying that he's, he's not going to get through this, and... He can't be dying, it's not happening, man, I'm not going to let it happen."

Sam sighed tiredly and rested his head in his hands.

* * *

He was in the same position when the social worker, Maria Dias entered the room several minutes later. Both Sam and Dean looked up as soon as they heard her footsteps, only Sam greeted her. "Hey, you're Maria, right? The social worker?"

"That's me." Maria replied lightly, she then asked. "Do you want to talk in here, or should we find another room so we don't wake your father?"

"I don't really mind." Sam replied easily, before turning to his brother and asking. "What about you?"

"I don't care what you two do, but I ain't leaving here." Dean replied obstinately, keeping his gaze fixed on his father.

"We can stay here." Sam offered, as much as Dean didn't want to be involved or so much as prepared for what was to come; Sam knew that he needed to be.

"Okay." Maria agreed gently as she pulled over a seat, so that she was sitting in front of the brothers.

Dean stubbornly kept turned away towards John, while Sam appeared open to speak with the social worker.

Maria offered a small smile. "Okay, so Kate told me that you're not quite sure about taking your father home to care for him. I'm here to help out however I can, so feel free to ask me anything, the only stupid question is the one you don't ask."

Sam glanced sideways at his brother, before awkwardly beginning. "We don't even have a place to stay, he was just passing through town when he ended up here. And it's not like we're rolling in cash."

"That's alright, I'll make some calls and see if I can find you somewhere affordable to rent, you just leave it with me. What else?"

Encouraged by one success, Sam continued. "What sort of things are we going to need to have? I mean is he going to need help getting around or anything like that?"

"As time progresses you will probably need a fair amount of medical equipment, mobility aids and such, maybe in home nursing care, I'll keep in contact with you and continuously assess what is needed, and organise things as they're needed."

"Is he going to get any better than this? Or will he just... slip?"

"The doctors can give you a better idea of that than I can, but I can tell you that while he may have good days, without further treatment he will inevitably go downhill."

Just then, something inside Dean snapped, and he turned to face Sam and Maria, and he shouted at them. "Shut up! Just stop already, we don't need this! He's not dying! Get out of here!"

Sam stood up, and with his hands in a motion of 'calm down', he said. "Okay De-...Greg, she's leaving. Just calm down."

"You too. Get out." Dean said coldly, his voice betraying his rage.

Stunned, Sam followed Maria out of the room, leaving Dean to stew in his emotions; Sam knew his brother well enough to know that there was no chance of talking to him when he was like this.

* * *

**TBC...**

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**And as always, suggestions and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcome, feel free to put them in a review or PM.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or the characters, and chances are that I never will.**

**Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! **

**bia1007, here's a christmas present! I'm going to pick this fic back up. I hope you have a wonderful christmas! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

After being ejected from his father's room, Sam sat down in the nearest chair, it took him a moment to realise that Maria was sitting beside him patiently. "I'm sorry about that, he's not coping."

"That's fine, it's a difficult time, and different people handle it in different ways."

"So what you were saying, can you tell me what's going to happen? How all this is going to go?"

Maria offered Sam a sympathetic smile, before she said, "As you know, your uncle will be allowed home in the next few days. By that time I will try to find your family somewhere to rent. John will go home using an oxygen tank, he'll need that most of the time. When you get him home, he'll need some assistance with day to day things like going and doing groceries, cleaning, driving him to appointments. As his condition worsens, generally he will require a higher level of care. Depending on what your family wants, you can have a nurse come to your house and explain how to care for him, avoid bedsores, maintain adequate nutrition, manage medications, which as time goes may involve IVs. Or I could arrange for a community nurse to come out as required to carry out all nursing care tasks."

Sam paused for a lengthy amount of time, thinking before he asked, "...And when it's you know, time... well, what's it like?"

"I won't lie to you, Josh. It is a very difficult time, the doctors can give you more detail, but as the body winds down, and starts to shut down, every system begins to fail. He will slip into a coma, his breathing will go in stages, which can be very difficult for family to witness."

* * *

The next day, John ordered his sons to sit and speak with him, it was about the hunt, despite his illness, there was still a job to be done. "I'd found some signs that the demon that killed Mary was starting up again, that something big was happening. The next week I was diagnosed, I've been trying to keep hunting, but I don't have long left. You boys need to pick up where I left off, this thing, it's huge."

Dean and Sam had wanted to, but they had later agreed that taking care of their father came above the hunt.

* * *

Three weeks later, Maria had come up with a small three bedroom townhouse several blocks from the hospital, and they had set up shop there. So far everything had been pretty straight forward, except for the constant effort to keep John from either trying to return to the hunt, or push his sons out of the house to do it for him.

There was no way that John could realistically return to the hunt, he could barely even make his way around the house.

The previous day, Sam had spoken to Maria, she had informed him that his father's doctor had, after seeing John that day, ordered him to use a wheelchair.

Conspicuously, John had not mentioned that detail when he briefed his sons on the appointment.

It was early in the morning, John was not yet out of bed, Sam and Dean were sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal, when the door bell sounded. "Damn it," Dean muttered, he may not like all this medical talk about prognosis and palliative care, but he did know that his father was unwell, and no one was allowed to wake him in the growing longer and more frequent periods that John slept.

On the inside, Sam was thinking much along the lines of what Dean had said, _damn it. _Maria had told him to expect the wheelchair, along with several replacement oxygen tanks, and the clincher for Sam's unease, a commode, so that John wouldn't have to make it the increasingly difficult eight metres to the bathroom from his bedroom.

He had planned to speak to Dean about this before the delivery, and their father, whom he was sure would have a lot to say about this, before it arrived, but now Sam was left to rush past Dean to the front door, he looked back at his brother, and mouthed _sorry_ to him before he pulled the door open. He greeted the delivery guy politely and signed for the equipment, before showing the guy to the living room, where he could leave everything, Sam tried to pull Dean away before he could see the delivery, to no avail.

This was when the shit really hit the fan.

Dean saw it, and started ranting and raving at his younger brother, this in turn woke John up, and a moment later, Sam was confronted by his father, whom had walked right past the delivery on his way to where he and Dean were arguing in the kitchen.

"What the hell did you do, Sam?!" John exclaimed in fury. This was beyond belief to him.

Sam whipped around to where his father stood, "Dad..."

"Don't even start," John said in a deadly serious tone, the kind that had pushed Sam away four and a half years ago, "Why the hell are those things there?! If you really think that I'm going to use a, a crapper on the spot, then you can just go the hell back to Stanford. I am not..." John's breathing was getting worse and worse as he got wound up, to the point where he was gasping for breath. In his hurry, John had left his oxygen in his room.

"Dad!" Sam said with urgency, he forgot the fight, and along with Dean, rushed to his father's side, together they helped John over to a dining chair, before Dean dashed into the bedroom for the oxygen tank.

Sam knelt in front of his father, "Breathe, Dad, just breathe. I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry, just try to breathe, we can figure this out, you don't have to use that stuff, just please try to breathe."

* * *

Of course John continued to be resistant, right up until one night. Dean was out hustling pool, they had to pay the bills somehow, leaving Sam and John home alone.

John was resting in his room, which now held numerous pieces of medical equipment. Sam was watching TV in the living room, when suddenly he heard a loud crash come from John's room. "Dad?!" Sam called out nervously as he rushed towards his father's room.

When Sam entered his father's room, and turned on the main light, to find his father lying on the floor, bleeding profusely from a hand, which had clearly gone through the wall in an effort to stop his fall. What was worse, Sam could clearly see on John's light coloured sleepwear, that his larger than life father had wet himself.

"Dad..." Sam murmured, standing stunned in the doorway. A groan coming from his father brought Sam back to focus, John was trying to stand up. Sam quickly moved to his side, "Here Dad, let me help you. What happened?"

John accepted Sam's hand, and unsteadily got to his feet. Once he was standing in front of his son, feeling beyond humiliation, he said. "I was trying to make to the bathroom, must've tripped, I've..."

Sam could see that there was nothing that John could have tripped over on, his father had been too exhausted to stay standing, just from the effort of standing up. "I know, Dad. Here, sit down here," Sam pulled over the commode, it was much like a seat really, "please Dad, I'll clean you up."

Needless to say it was an awful experience for both parties, but it had to be done, John was too weak to change into clean clothes himself, and after that, he had had to clean and suture several cuts to his father's hand.

From that night on, John accepted more help, he used the wheelchair sometimes, allowed Sam and Dean to help him in and out of bed, he even used the commode on occasion, that's not to say that he didn't hate it.

* * *

Dean for the most part continued to ignore the reality, even more so from the night of their big blow up, he spent every free moment searching on Sam's laptop for something, anything to save his father's life, he still refused to accept the reality. Late on a Friday night, success, "Yahtzee" Dean exclaimed, he had found a clinical trial at Johns' Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, it matched his father's condition to the letter, but entry to the trial was ending at eleven fifty-nine that Sunday. With a sense of urgency he grabbed his phone, and punched in the number given, the line went straight to a message, "This is Dr DeCosta's office, we are sorry, but we are currently closed, for urgent matters, either contact the hospital or proceed to the emergency department."

Dean didn't even consider the difficulty level, the near impossibility of getting his father into the trial, before he jumped out of his chair. He grabbed one of their abandoned duffle bags, and began hastily filling it as he moved towards Sam's room, his younger brother, along with his father had already turned in for the night.

Dean pushed Sam's door open, and flicked on the lights, "Sam! Get up, we're leaving. I found something to help Dad, but we've got to go, now! Wake up."

Sam rolled over, and as he saw Dean standing in the doorway, dishevelled, and quite frankly looking something like a mad man, shouting about some plan to drive their terminally ill father eight hours away on some off chance of a miracle, it truly hit him. What Dean had said those weeks ago at their father's hospital bedside, that he wasn't going to let him die, he had been completely serious, he would go to any lengths.

* * *

**TBC...**

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**And as always, suggestions and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcome, feel free to put them in a review or PM.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or the characters, and chances are that I never will.**

**I hope you all enjoy the final chapter****!**

* * *

Sam didn't try to fight Dean, but he also didn't enable him, he got out of bed, but made no effort to prepare to leave. Dean went straight to their father's room, and woke him from his slumber.

"Dean? Son, what're you doing?" John asked sleepily, between the fact that it was one am and that he was on all kinds of medications, he could barely wake up. The last thing he wanted to deal with was his eldest son, trying to wake him up now.

"I've found it, Dad! What we've been looking for, a way to save you, but we've got to go now. Come on, let's get you up."

Dean got John as far as the living room, before John and Sam put their feet down. John ordered his son, "Dean! Stop and listen."

After years of obeying orders, Dean stopped instantly, and waited for what his dad was going to say next.

"We are not going to Baltimore."

"What?! No way, Dad, we've got to go! This is our only chance!" Dean shouted, he couldn't believe that his father still wouldn't accept his help.

John knew he had to stop this, right now. He had to make one thing very clear to Dean, to make him understand, "I don't want to fight it, Dean! This thing, it's going to kill me, and I'll be damned if I'm going to spend the last weeks of my life in the hospital, hooked up to every machine known to man. I know you don't want to let me go, but this is what I..." John was about to say this is what he wanted, but actually, staying in some pretty average government house, waiting to die, that wasn't what he wanted. He truly wanted to just keep going with his life how he'd lived it for the past twenty two years, but he knew that he couldn't, hitting the road when he could barely even walk ten feet, it wasn't an option.

Dean still persisted, "Come on, Dad. For all we know this could work, you could get better, please try."

Hearing his son's heartfelt pleas, John heart broke as he stood his ground, "Dean, be realistic here, I'm dying, and nothing can stop it. So please stop this, just let me spend the time I've got left with you boys."

Finally Dean got it, he didn't like it, but he accepted his father's decision, and they finally all truly accepted the reality, John was dying, the only question now was how was he going to spend his final weeks.

* * *

The next day they left town, but not before Sam and Dean had snuck into the hospital to gather a variety of medications and supplies to keep John comfortable as time passed.

They went back on the road, drove for days, stopping in a town each night, finding another hotel each night, some pretty crummy ones, they went back to places they hadn't been since Sam and Dean were kids, the lake where John taught Dean to fish, the campground they were staying at when Sam took his first steps.

* * *

Their trip continued until a week before John died, they were in Haileyville, Oklahoma. It had only meant to be a brief stop, but when Sam woke in the morning he had discovered that John had slipped into a coma.

"Dad?! Dad, wake up!" Sam had tried in vain for nearly an hour, Dean had joined him at some point, John never woke up.

* * *

It was a difficult week, Sam and Dean did their best to keep their dying father comfortable, bathing him, turning him to avoid pressure sores, everything else they could do.

They couldn't leave him for more than a minute without him becoming distressed, even in his semi-comatose state he was still aware of what was happening around him, and it quickly became apparent to the boys that he was terrified to be alone. It got to the point where one of them had to sit with him at all times, keeping skin to skin contact.

* * *

John died on the eighth of April, 2006.

In the final hours, Dean and Sam were quiet; they sat at either side of their father, holding his hands, just making sure he knew he was not alone as he slipped away.

By the end John's breaths were so shallow, so infrequent, they barely noticed when he finally passed.

It was the end of a long, painful illness, a difficult, unhappy life.

* * *

**The end of yet another fic. I truly hope you enjoyed it, and would love to hear your thoughts.  
**

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**And as always, suggestions and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcome, feel free to put them in a review or PM.**


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